by Alex Morgan
They started off on margaritas but moved on, at Paula’s suggestion, to tequila slammers. Looking back, this was where it had started to go wrong. Even after the best part of a bottle of Rioja with dinner, followed by a couple of large vodka tonics, she had felt reasonably in control. The margaritas had made her slightly off balance, reckless even, but without the slammers to wash away what remained of her judgment, it would never have happened, not in a million years.
She remembered competing to see who knew the funniest Englishman, Scotsman and Irishman joke, as they banged the coaster-topped glasses on the bar and knocked back the contents. She could even remember Ollie telling her she had won, but the joke itself was long gone from her memory. She had a feeling it wasn’t that funny anyway; the mood they were in, everything seemed hilarious.
By the time the barman suggested Paula and Ollie continue their party elsewhere because he needed to close up, they were the only drinkers left. Arm in arm, they wove their way across the foyer and made it into an empty lift just as the metal doors were shutting. Clinging together for support, they fell back against the side.
“That was a hoot and a half,” Paula said. “My lightweight little brother’ll kick his own arse when he hears about the sparklingly witty repartee he missed.”
“Wittily sparkling,” Ollie corrected.
“No, sparklingly witty. That was my sentence and I say it was sparklingly witty.” Paula I waved a finger at him. “If you want to correct something, go and find a sentence of your own.”
“If you want to be pedantic, go and find a lift of your own,” Ollie countered.
She poked him in the chest. “You’re the one who’s being pedantic. You should go and find a lift of your own.”
Ollie responded by grabbing her around the waist, lifting her off the floor and twirling her round. “I’m sorry, madam, I’m going to have to put you out at the next floor,” he said solemnly.
“Put me down, you great moose.” Paula pounded her fists on his shoulders in mock fury.
The next minute, she was lying on top of him on the carpet outside the lift.
“What happened?” She sat up and rubbed her elbows.
“I think we reached our floor,” Ollie said. “Which way’s Pete’s room?”
“Not sure. Why?”
“So we can drink his mini-bar dry and tell him what he missed.”
“That’s an extremely bad idea.” She managed to stand up. “You know what he’s like if he doesn’t get his eight hours.”
“Yeah, a bear with piles.”
“Come on, we can raid my mini-bar instead.”
She held out her hand and helped Ollie to his feet. “Chop, chop, let’s go.”
The vodka and Coke was the last straw for Paula’s bladder, but in the couple of steps to the en-suite something important slipped her mind. After she peed, she decided to brush her teeth. Then she got undressed for bed. It was only when she walked back into the bedroom stark naked that she remembered she wasn’t alone.
Ollie was sitting cross legged on the bed. “Hello boys,” he said delightedly.
Ignoring him, she walked round to the other side, pulled back the duvet and climbed in.
“Should I get in too?” he asked.
“Go on then,” a voice that came out of Paula’s mouth said.
Ollie refilled her glass and got up to clear their plates. “It’s ages since I’ve had spaghetti puttanesca. I’d forgotten how good it is.”
“It’s one of my favourites, but I don’t like it as much as carbonara.” Paula winced inwardly at the inanity of the remark and drained her wine. She had been chatting about Craskferry and describing the bike rides she had been on, but she wouldn’t be able to distract him from more serious topics for much longer.
He sat back down.
“I haven’t got anything sweet for pudding but there’s brie in the fridge,” she suggested, blotting a fleck of parmesan off the table with her fingertip.
Ollie grabbed her hand before she could return it to her lap. Part of her wanted to shake him off and scream the house down, to make him go away forever, so she would never have to reveal the mess inside her head to him; another part wanted to throw her arms around him and never let go, to confess about Andy and beg for his forgiveness, but guilt and confusion silenced and immobilised her.
“It’s been awful without you the past couple of weeks,” he began, turning her hand over and studying the lines of her palm as he spoke. “Sometimes I didn’t know how I was going to cope. I started to think you were blaming me.”
Paula found her voice. “Blaming you?” she asked puzzled. “Why would I do that?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. Because I wasn’t there to protect him maybe. If I’d been there, it might not have happened.”
She looked away. “I’m as much to blame as you – more. I was his big twin. It was my job to keep him safe.”
“Paula, he was an adult.”
“But he was still my little brother.”
“I know. He always hated riding alone the night before a race. One of us should have been with him. Didn’t he ask you to go?”
“He knew I was on a deadline for work. You?”
“No. I hadn’t spoken to him for a couple of days before …” Ollie’s voice trailed off.
“That’s not like you.”
“I’d been busy too,” he said miserably. “I suppose he didn’t want to bother me.”
Paula reached for his hand and they sat in silence for a while.
Ollie spoke first. “Why did you run away and not return my calls?”
“Don’t … I can’t … I don’t …” The way she felt then, the way she felt now: she couldn’t even begin to explain any of it. “I’m just so tired. Shall we go to bed?” she heard herself suggest.
Paula lay as still as she could, trying not to give any sign that she was awake. Even with her eyes closed she could tell it was daylight, but she didn’t dare open them and check the time in case the movement woke him. As long as Ollie was asleep, she could pretend it hadn’t happened.
It had been easier to have sex than talk, and he had seemed so grateful for what he must have seen as a sign things were getting back to normal, that she had carried on even when a voice inside her was screaming, “Stop! Don’t do this – it’ll only make things worse.” But could things ever be normal again? Could they go back to the way they were? She had slept with him that first night in Manchester simply because he was there. She had been drunk and naked, and he was there. When they woke up the next morning to the sound of someone hammering on the bedroom door, she had been instantly ashamed.
“What the hell’s that noise?” Ollie had muttered without opening his eyes.
Paula pulled the duvet over her head.
A voice from the corridor called, “PT, are you in there?”
Christ, it was Pete. She leapt out of the bed and flung herself against the door. She was pretty certain it locked automatically when it closed last night, but what if she was wrong?
“Is it too much to ask to have a shower in peace?” she called through the thin wood. Her throat was so ragged it was amazing any sound came out.
“You’re not up yet? It’s nearly twelve. We were supposed to check out by eleven and I can’t find Ollie. If we don’t get packed and out double quick, they’ll charge us for another night.”
She needed to make him go away. “It’s okay, he was here a little while ago. He overslept too. He’s just popped out for some air. He said he’d meet us in the foyer. You get your stuff and go down. I won’t be long.”
“You’d better not be.”
She listened as his footsteps retreated down the hall. When she finally turned round, Ollie was sitting up grinning.
He patted the duvet beside him. “Get back over here.”
“There’s no time for that now.” She backed into the en-suite and locked the door.
Paula turned the shower to its coldest setting and stepped under the w
ater, biting her knuckles to stop herself crying out from the shock. She wished she could wash the alcohol out of her system and with it the knowledge that she had just slept with her brother’s oldest friend. Her oldest friend. He was virtually her brother too. She might as well have slept with Pete. Hurling herself out of the shower, she made a grab for the toilet bowl.
Ollie tried the door handle. “Are you okay in there? Are you being sick?”
It felt like an age before the retching stopped and she was able to answer. “Sorry, too much booze.”
“Open the door and I’ll help you clean up.”
“No,” she replied too quickly. “I’m fine now. Everything’s fine. I’ll be out in a minute.”
What on earth had possessed her to sleep with him? She knew objectively that he was a good looking, funny guy. Several of her girlfriends used to just about foam at the mouth with lust whenever they all went out together, but he hadn’t been that interested in them.
His last girlfriend, a teaching colleague of Pete’s called Lily, was always desperate to tell anyone who would listen how fabulous he was in bed, and she was devastated when he dumped her after a couple of months. Ollie’s relationships never lasted much longer than that. Whenever the girl gave any sign of wanting things to get more serious, he seemed to panic. Within a couple of days, she would be weeping on Paula’s shoulder: It had all been going so well. She had never met anyone like him – handsome, intelligent, witty and kind.
Paula offered comforting platitudes: it was Ollie’s loss, they deserved better, and so on, but she always felt detached. To her, Ollie was family and she just couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. Not that the sex had been terrible or anything. From what she could remember – could allow herself to remember – it was fine. No, better than fine. Not amazing, but good enough that if he had been anyone other than Ollie, she would have been pretty pleased to wake up beside him.
He was fully dressed and sitting on the bed, tying his laces when she emerged wrapped in a towel.
He smiled at her. “How are you doing? You look a bit shaky. Are you going to survive the journey?”
“I’ll be fine once I’ve had a couple of gallons of coffee,” she lied.
“I’m going to need a few cups too – and a very large fried breakfast. Thank God Pete’s driving.”
“He’ll be wondering where we are.” She wished Ollie would hurry up and go.
Finally, he stood up. “I’d better grab my stuff. See you downstairs.”
He kissed her quickly on the lips and let himself out into the corridor.
Over breakfast in a greasy spoon and on the drive back to London they both behaved as if nothing untoward had happened. Ollie was the first to be dropped off. The tandem he and Pete raced was stored at his house. Paula stayed in the car while Pete helped him get it off the roof rack. As Pete wheeled the bike up the path, Ollie mouthed through the car window, “Call you later.”
She was closing the front door when her mobile rang.
“That was a bit weird, wasn’t it,” he said.
It felt as if someone had dropped a lead weight into her stomach. She forced herself to speak. “Hi, Ollie. You can say that again.”
“We’re going to have to tell Pete. It’ll be too strange otherwise. Do you want to do it or will I?”
“Do we need to tell him?” Christ, Ollie didn’t think it was a one off. “I mean, do you think we really have something we need to tell him?” Ouch, not very tactful.
“Does that mean you don’t?” He sounded stung.
If she and Ollie fell out over this, how could he ever coach them or ride with them again, and what would it do to Pete if she destroyed their winning team? She needed to tread carefully. Groaning internally, she said, “I just think we need to talk about it first ourselves. Why don’t you come over?”
Back to reality
“Oh no, you’re awake. I was planning to surprise you with breakfast in bed.” Ollie said as he wrapped his arms around her.
“How about you make it while I go for a quick run instead?” Paula suggested. “My back’s a bit stiff. I must have been lying awkwardly. Moving should free it up.”
“Okay, but it’ll be on the table in exactly thirty minutes, so get a shift on.”
As she got out of bed, he leant over and patted her bottom. “Sexy.”
She suppressed a shudder.
It was another beautiful, clear-skied day and the beach was already busy with families unfurling windbreaks and setting up deckchairs. Paula walked down to the hard sand, did a few stretches and began jogging gently towards the cliffs, rotating her arms alternately as she went. Loosened up, she increased the pace.
She’d left her iPod on the bedside table and without music to drown out her thoughts, she found herself remembering that Sunday evening after she and Ollie first slept together. It was less than four months ago, but so much had happened since, it felt far longer.
He must have run every red light south of the Thames because he was on her doorstep in less than twenty minutes. She had tried to work out what she could say to end things without hurting his feelings, to protect Pete and Team Tyndall, but her mind remained stubbornly blank.
She’d showed him into the sitting room and bought a couple more minutes by going to the kitchen to make a pot of tea. It didn’t do any good. As she laid the tray on the table in front of the sofa, her brain still felt numb.
“This is really embarrassing, isn’t it?” he said. “I feel like I’m about fifteen again.”
Paula poured the tea. “I’m so mixed up my brain seems to have seized completely.”
He was perched on the edge of the sofa clasping and unclasping his hands. “And being monumentally hung-over isn’t helping.”
She sank into the chair beside him. “I’m never going to get drunk like that again.”
Ollie studied the floor. His right foot had started to tap. “Is that the only reason it happened?”
Paula opened her mouth to reply. She wanted to say yes. Drinking too much always made her horny. But was it really that simple? Was the alcohol just an excuse? And an excuse for what exactly?
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I really don’t.”
“So what do we do now?”
“I don’t know the answer to that either.”
God, she was being utterly useless. Why couldn’t she just say that sleeping together had been a mistake? It was all her fault. She didn’t know what had come over her. She was really sorry, and could they please pretend it never happened and all those other clichés? If it had been anyone but Ollie, she wouldn’t have had any trouble saying it, but if it was anyone but Ollie, she wouldn’t have had to.
She took a gulp of tea. “Ow, that was hot.”
“I’ll get you a glass of water.”
“Stay where you are. I’m fine.”
“So …”
Paula took a more careful sip.
Ollie exhaled slowly. “I’m not going to pretend I regret what happened last night, because I don’t and I’d like it to happen again.” He turned to face her. “There, I’ve said it. So what do you think?”
“I … I don’t know. It wasn’t something I planned.”
“I don’t think either of us planned it, but that’s not the point, is it?”
“Maybe we just need to take things very slowly and not say anything to Pete until we’re sure.”
Jesus Christ, what did she just say? Take things slowly and not tell Pete till they were sure? Sure of what?
A smile of relief spread across his face. “Yes, definitely. Good idea.”
She stood up. “I don’t want to throw you out, but I’m feeling poisoned by all that booze and totally worn out. I need to go and lie in the bath and get an early night.”
“Absolutely, no problem.” He got to his feet. “I’m so glad we were able to talk things through and that we feel the same way.” He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hair. “This could be the start of something gr
eat.”
Returning from her run, Paula opened the back door to find Ollie serving up bacon, scrambled eggs and fried bread.
“Perfect timing. Sit yourself down and pour the coffee.”
She did as he instructed.
He sat opposite her. “You had two visitors while you were out.”
She bit into a piece of fried bread. “Who was that?”
“A bloke with a little white dog turned up a few minutes after you left.”
“Really? I don’t know a bloke with a white dog.”
“He said his name was Terry.”
Paula felt herself blush. “Oh, no, Nora’s husband. I thought he was a dog.”
Ollie paused with a forkful of food in mid-air. “What?”
She shook her head. “Never mind. What did he want?”
“He said he and his wife are having a barbecue tonight and did we want to go.”
“We?”
“Is it not okay now to tell people I’m your boyfriend?”
She swallowed, pushing down the scream of “NO!” that was fighting to escape. “Sorry, I didn’t mean … Go on.”
“That was it. He said they’re at number 27. We’re to go round at about eight o’clock and take plenty of alcohol.”
“You accepted?”
“Why not? He seemed a nice bloke and I thought they must be friends of yours. It sounded like just what you need.”
She opened her mouth to demand what right he had to say what she needed, but the look of outrage on her face was enough.
“Sorry, sorry. I’m like a bull in a china shop sometimes. I should have asked you instead of assuming.” He took her hands in his. “I just want to make things better for you, to have the old Paula back.”
“Ollie …”
He nodded. “I know it’s stupid. Things are never going to be the same. I do realise that. I just …” His eyes filled with tears.
“It’s okay. I’m sure they are nice people – I know his wife a little. She has a café I’ve been to a few times.”
He leant over and stroked her cheek. “We don’t have to stay long. Terry said it would just be a few friends eating burnt sausages and having a laugh. Maybe it’ll be good for us both.”
